Up for auction, and humiliation, for a cause

As per my earlier post, here is my March 3, 2007 column on participating in a dating auction.

Some girls wish for lip gloss and a good hair day when standing in front of dozens of eligible bachelors. I’m craving a little blue pill – one called Imodium.

I’ve been to many a meat market, but never one quite like this – the Lake George Winter Carnival’s 1st Ever Date Auction. As I stand on the dance floor, about 60 pairs of eyes size me up.

I’m used to audiences, but this is unlike anything I’ve been through. This is an open invitation for people to not only judge me but to verbally put a price on my dating value. I was told to just “relax and have fun,” but I’m as nervous as Jennifer Hudson at the Oscars. I’m also stressed about not having a talent for the talent portion. The closest I come to artistic performance is singing in the shower. I’ll skip that part.

“I’m nervous,” I tell Shannon, a Zenlike mom and one of my closest friends, a few days before the event, thinking moms are always good for support in a pinch.

“Well, you should be; you’re getting up on an auction block,” she says.

So much for reassurance.

Everyone says I’m crazy, either for being auctioned or for worrying about it. As for the latter, I asked them one thing: “Well, would you get up there?”

Didn’t think so.

In the days leading up to the event, I think about bailing, but I know the biography booklets have been printed, date packages secured and, most importantly, it’s to raise money for local not-for-profits.

Plus, I am a little curious. Don’t we all wonder what we’re worth?

As we arrive at the Holiday Inn in Lake George, I discover I have wardrobe issues, too.

“Everyone’s in an evening gown,” I hiss to my sister on the phone from the confines of the coat closet. I thought flannel and boots were what I’d get up here during Winter Carnival, or my equivalent – designer jeans, patent-leather pumps and a backless black shirt. But that doesn’t keep me from worrying my market value has gone way down.

“I can’t believe that. Those guys have to be drooling over that outfit,” she says, feeling guilty she steered me wrong. She is my unofficial stylist, after all.

I come clean and tell her I haven’t taken off my neck-to-knee wool jacket.

She sternly directs me to go to the bar, have two drinks, and ditch the coat. I think I hear her growl.

Sure, there’s the (very plausible) chance of no bids, but at the pre-auction cocktail hour – which lasted a painful 120-plus minutes – I try charming potential buyers to churn a bidding war. All’s fair in love and charity.

Several men talk with me. Some promise bids, others challenge me on my write-up in the “Date Guide.”

“So you’re 100 yards away, and in the rough, what club do you use?” asks one.

“A seven or eight iron, depending on the lie, the angle in, etc.,” I answer.

He doesn’t like that club choice. Different strokes for different folks, I guess.

Another man wants me to “prove” I take hip-hop dance classes. I decline. Hall and Oates doesn’t exactly make you want to booty shake.

Then there is Mike.

“You aren’t wearing a bra,” is his greeting.

I knew I forgot something when I left the house. (In reality, the nature of the backless shirt made bra-wearing impossible).

I find this pickup line a little strange, but was always one to embrace the quirky – and up my selling potential. I chat with him for a while.

Finally, they call an end to the forced conversation/sizing-up portion of the night and the bachelors and bachelorettes are summoned out to the hall. Each of the five women and six men picks a number to determine the order on the chopping block.

I get No. 2.

OK, not bad. The men will all have full pockets. I’m feeling good – who knew?

Then, that confidence fades and I think, “What if they want to hold out and see what else is out there?” We are a society of endless choices.

But I don’t have time to freak out. I’m up.

I walk out on the dance floor and make eye contact with the blow-up snowman in the corner. My eyes haven’t adjusted to the dim lighting and I can’t see my bevy of promised suitors.

Silence. No claps, no hoots or hollers. Hell, I’ll even take a whistle.

I didn’t know crickets could live through a North Country winter.

I have flashbacks to many a middle school dance, where no boys approached me. (Yeah, like that still doesn’t mess with my head.)

“Do I hear 20?” the auctioneer calls out. I jerk my body around awkwardly to Justin Timberlake’s “Sexy Back,” alone in the middle of the dance floor.

“Do I hear 20, anyone?”

He tries selling me on my profession and beefing me up with snippets from my bio.

Still nothing.

Desperation inspires behavior I couldn’t have imagined.

I can now see each and every one of them out in the audience, so I do what a girl has to do – I embarrass, er, coax, them into bidding on me.

“Bill, you promised me a bid,” I say, going right to the edge of the dance floor and staring him down.

After diamonds, intimidation is a girl’s best friend.

I do the same to Mike, Jim, another Mike and the man whose name I cannot recall, but who is close enough to the dance floor to suffer the brunt of my begging.

The bids (finally) start coming in and creep up slowly, five dollars at a time.

We reach a hundred bucks, and I beg the auctioneer to put me out of my misery.

That’s amazing… they must not read your articles.
Or wait, maybe they do and don’t like them… hahaha
just teasing you. I can’t believe they wouldn’t have a bidding war, you look great in that photo. We’re they all short guys? Good luck on your date, I’m sure it’ll be interesting.

Kristi: I’m a little disappointed that you didn’t let us, your faithful readers/bloggers know about your auction…or did I miss a post? I’m willing to bet that we could have easily doubled your bid. In any event, you get huge props from me for putting yourself on the line for charity…or was it a fundraiser for the Carnival? ?

All my illusions of bachelor/bachelorette auctions are now ruined. After watching “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil” and that Ashley Judd movie where she’s trying to uncover a crime (no, the other one. No, not that one, the other other one. No, not the one with Morgan Freeman. No, not the other one with Morgan Freeman…) where dark, mysterious strangers make last second high dollar bids are apparently just a celluloid fantasy.

Gene, while I will say it was not at all what I expected, I would do it again- if it was for charity. I just won’t be participating in the one for the Winter Carnival, since I know how that’s going to play out. A few years ago, I covered one at the Hall of Springs. It was a really classy event, each bachelor/bachelorette went for hundreds of dollars and they raised tons of money for the charity. So … it dating auctions don’t always look like the one in Glens Falls!

Wow Kristi, that pretty weird. Maybe he’s married and couldn’t get out… :o)

I guess it was a nice thing for him to to do though, for you and the charity. Putting yourself up for auction was a very nice gesture on your part. There’s another little part of you we didn’t know was there… well done.

I agree with bocuse, next time let us know and we’ll all chip in some $$$…

What did the other girls fetch? I would think that men would appreciate your down to earth attire, rather than the stuffy evening gown… but what do I know.

I did something similar to this back in college for charity… the male to female ratio at my school was 5 men to 1 woman – so you really didn’t have to be a supermodel to rate. I didn’t fare that well, and my “date” stood me up… maybe it was because the income tax bracket of my suiters was pretty low. The girl with the highest bid lifted up her shirt :)It’s truly humiliating, but I’d rather get $30 than sacrifice my dignity.

You know, it was so long ago, I don’t know how much was raised by the other people on the auction block. Either way, they all got bids organically (although some had friends/partners in the audience as ‘safeties.’) I had to beg.

Kudos on doing the date auction! It takes a brave soul to get up like that in front of a few hundred people. I know, I’ve been there before. The trick is to have alot of unique items in your date package, such as gym memberships, etc.